


How To Stay

by this_wayward_life



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Fluff, Leaving, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Past Brainwashing, Porn with Feelings, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Smut, Steve Rogers Is Not Good At Dealing With Feelings, Top Steve Rogers, natasha romanov and steve rogers friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 21:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19035826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_wayward_life/pseuds/this_wayward_life
Summary: Steve looked for Bucky, but could never find him. But sometimes Bucky came to him.





	How To Stay

**Author's Note:**

> God, I forgot how great it feels to finish writing something. Hope you enjoy!

Honestly, it was just a hunch. The building in front of him was dilapidated and crumbling, its windows crusted over with dirt. Steve moved quietly in and out of sight, in the shadows of the buildings and cars around him as civilians milled on the streets. The building made Steve feel a pull that he hadn't felt since 1945 - it hurt, deep in his diaphragm. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slipping between pedestrians and cars and suspicious looking homeless men in the alleyway until he made it to the back of the building. The fire escape scaled the entire thing, and Steve started to climb. He went past the first ten floors, then that pull was back, deep in his chest. Steve had to press a shaking hand to the front of his suit, to try and stop the pressure. He remembered what that feeling was.

It was grief.

Taking a shuddering breath, Steve jimmied open the window closest to him and slipped through, scanning the dark room for any possible movement. The only light source came from the two grimy windows - one of them being the one Steve just came through. A fine layer of dust covered the apartment, the only things devoid of the particles being the unmade dumpster mattress, covered in a few moth-eaten blankets, and a book with a star on the front. Steve felt a clench in his chest as he looked at the book, and took it in his hands. He flipped through. The only page with anything on it was in the middle - it was a picture of him. One of his old war propaganda photos. Steve closed the book and turned away.

He wasn't surprised to see the figure in the shadows behind him. Bucky looked very different from when Steve had last seen him - he was clean, a cap covering his long hair, and a hoodie over a long-sleeved shirt. If Steve didn't know better, he would've thought that Bucky was just a normal guy.

"Do you know me?" 

Bucky stares at him, as if measuring the threat. Steve fought down the lump in his throat as he noticed, once again, the trauma that Bucky had gone through in the past 70 years. 

"You're Steve," Bucky finally said. He squinted. "I read about you in a museum."

The twitch in his right eye was what gave the lie away. 

"I know you're nervous," Steve said slowly, taking a small step towards Bucky. In his ear, Steve heard Sam report that a task force had spotted Bucky on the other side of the country. How wrong they were. "And you have plenty of reason to be."

Bucky scrutinised him, his eyes glinting like blue ice. 

"But I know you're lying."

Bucky chewed on his lip, and Steve was pulled back to '39, back in their scrappy Brooklyn apartment. It was such a human gesture that Steve couldn't help but swallow back a sob.

"I wasn't in Vienna," Bucky finally said. "I don't do that anymore."

"Well, the entire world disagrees. Every special force on the continent is looking for you." Steve swallowed and continued. "And they're not planning on taking you alive."

Bucky seemed to mull it over, before finally saying, "That's smart. Good strategy."

"Bucky..." Steve started, but Bucky looked over at him as if daring him to continue. He looked scared. 

"This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck," Steve said gently. Bucky snorted, and looked up at him. His eyes were sad.

"It always ends in a fight."

And with that, he was gone. 

 

\-------

 

The next time Steve saw Bucky, it was in his hotel room.

Courtesy of the United Nations and everyone who wanted the Winter Soldier dead, the Avengers were treated to a special 5-star hotel in every city they stopped in, trying to find James Buchanan Barnes. They were in Italy now - Venice, of all places. Steve was getting ready to follow a lead, pulling his shirt on when he felt the presence behind him. He turned around to see Bucky, standing beside the sofa. He didn't look good - his hair was matted, his clothes ripped, and blood bloomed on several different places all over his body. As Steve watched, Bucky listed to the side before staggering back upright. Steve moved forward quickly, but Bucky quickly backed away.

"What happened to you?" Steve asked softly. Bucky shook his head, his eyes out of focus. Slower now, Steve reached out again, and Bucky let Steve guide him to the kitchenette and sit him on the bench. Bucky swayed slightly, blinking dopily. If Steve were to guess, he'd taken a bad hit to the head.

Grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink, Steve returned just in time to catch Bucky as he fell over once again.

"Whoa, easy there," Steve said in alarm. Bucky closed his eyes and opened them again blearily.

"Steve?" he said weakly. Steve ignored the involuntary stutter in his chest at the vulnerability in his best friend's voice and set to work carefully peeling Bucky's shirt off, exposing the four vertical slash marks that cut deep into his chest. It was obvious he'd lost a lot of blood, and Steve quickly cleaned the wound and bandaged it as carefully as he could, murmuring words of encouragement to an almost unconscious Bucky.

As he worked, Steve felt Bucky lean into him, and the feeling of Bucky's head on his shoulder threw Steve back to the war, when he would care for Bucky's wounds and his friend would bury his face in the curve of Steve's neck, his warm breath sending shivers down Steve's spine. Steve pressed a small kiss to the crown of Bucky's head and, when it was obvious he wouldn't be able to walk, Steve picked up the now asleep Winter Soldier and set him gently down in his bed. 

Bucky looked so peaceful sleeping that Steve couldn't resist brushing the stray hairs out of his face. Bucky's eyelashes fluttered, and he made a small noise in his sleep. Steve stood up, blinking back tears, and settled down on the couch. He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he did, Bucky was gone. The only signs that he was ever there was the dip in the bed and a lock of hair still on the pillow.

 

\------

 

A few weeks later, when Steve was back in the states, Bucky found him again. 

He'd gotten an apartment near his old neighbourhood in Brooklyn, close enough to the Avengers Tower to be able to get there quickly. It was surprisingly nice - because of Tony and his ridiculous wealth, he'd been kind enough to buy Steve's apartment for him (although unfortunately, Tony did get a key and Steve was constantly finding weird presents from hot pink dildos to a baby seal on his couch). So Steve wasn't particularly surprised when he'd found his window wide open. He thought that Tony had probably hired a disgraced gymnast-turned-stripper and told them to come through the window, or something equally ridiculous. Steve was even more shocked though when instead of a circus employee he found the familiar silhouette of Bucky Barnes leaning against his kitchen counter. 

Bucky turned around when Steve entered the room, and Steve was struck by how much better Bucky looked than the last time they'd seen each other. They didn't speak for a moment, each man drinking in the other's expressions and reactions.

"How are your wounds?" Steve finally asked. Bucky looked almost startled that Steve had asked, and Steve had to hold himself back from wrapping his friend up in his arms. Bucky had been a weapon for so long, it was as if he'd forgotten what it was like to have someone care about his wellbeing.

"Healed," Bucky said after a pause. He tugged on a stray lock of hair as if distracted. "Thank you for helping me."

Steve felt as if he should say something meaningful; profound. But all he could manage was a small, "You're welcome."

Bucky didn't seem to mind. In fact, it was as if he was in a different place altogether. He kept twirling that lock of hair as if it was a lifeline, and with his metal arm, he tapped the kitchen counter absentmindedly. With a start, Steve realised it was Morse Code.

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

"Why are you here, Buck?" Steve asked. He tried to ignore the crack in his own voice. Bucky looked back over at him, and Steve's heart broke even more. Bucky's eyes were wide and scared; he'd been biting so hard into his lip that it had started to bleed, and Steve moved forward to softly wipe away the blood that was beginning to make its way down Bucky's chin. 

Bucky looked up at him, a vulnerable look in his eyes, and Steve hadn't been able to stop himself from wrapping his arms around his friend and holding him as close as he could. Bucky was frozen for a few seconds before he melted into the embrace; his arms wrapped tightly around Steve's neck and his face buried in the crook of Steve's collarbone. Bucky smelled like peppermint and gunpowder, and Steve rested his cheek on Bucky's soft hair. It tickled his nose and only served to make him pull Bucky closer. 

Bucky's body started to shake like a leaf; Steve wasn't sure if he was crying or not until he felt the tears seep through his T-shirt. Somehow, they'd migrated to the couch - Steve had no memory of getting there - and Bucky was almost on his lap, curled up in a ball and holding on to Steve for dear life. Steve ran his hand through Bucky's hair, and it felt like silk under his calloused fingers. It was equal parts incredible and heartbreaking, the way a man Bucky's size could look so small and defeated. Steve willed his own tears back, and just held the man that he loved until they'd both fallen asleep from exhaustion. When Steve had woken up, Bucky had disappeared once again.

 

\-------

 

Everyone had noticed Steve's unhappiness - even Clint, and he wasn't the brightest bulb when it came to emotions. They'd tried everything - Sam had let him beat him in a race, Natasha tried to set him up on a date with an ex-SHIELD agent (which didn't help at all), and Thor had smuggled some Asgardian mead and organised a guy's night, complete with strippers (courtesy of Tony). It had ended with Clint dancing naked on the table, Rhodey passed out 6 feet from the ground, held up by fairy lights, and Bruce constructing some miniature version of the Hulk out of plastic cups and beer bottles. At least it helped Steve keep his mind off Bucky, at least for a little while. But a few days later, Wanda had found Steve sitting in the armoury, holding the faded picture of Bucky just after he'd enlisted that Steve had found in the Winter Soldier file.

"Is that the Winter Soldier?" Wanda asked. She sounded wary, and Steve didn't blame her. As far as she knew, the Winter Soldier worked for HYDRA, and they hadn't exactly been good to her in the past.

"His name was Bucky," Steve croaked. Wanda sat down quietly beside him on the bench, and he could almost hear her thinking.

"When was that picture taken?" she asked curiously. "It looks old."

Steve laughed hollowly. "1942. The year Bucky enlisted for the war. I joined him on the front lines a year later. He fell off a train in '44. Nobody could've survived the fall, so I didn't look for him. Turns out he'd survived and had been taken by HYDRA. Then brainwashed, tortured..."

Steve cut himself off, not trusting himself to speak. Wanda was quiet beside him. It took a few seconds before he could keep talking.

"He didn't know who he was," Steve whispered. "For 70 years... And I hadn't looked for him."

"Steve," Wanda said gently. "It's not your fault."

Steve was reminded of his conversation with Peggy, just after the accident. She'd said the same thing. He knew better than to argue, though - Wanda was just trying to help. 

"When Pietro died," Wanda started, "I was ready to give up. I wanted to die because there was nothing worth living for. When Vision pulled me out, I realised something."

She paused, looking at him with pain in her eyes. "He wouldn't want me to die. He wouldn't want me to just... Give up on everything, just because he wasn't there anymore."

"Yeah, but Bucky's _alive_ ," Steve argued. "And I know he's out there, and he doesn't want to be anywhere near me."

"If you were in his situation," Wanda said slowly, "would you want to be found?"

Steve paused. Bucky was still wanted for the United Nations bombing, as well as his crimes against the nation. He was a fugitive, and Steve basically worked for, or at least with the government of the United States. And Bucky was only just getting his brain back together, after over half a century of torture and brainwashing. He probably wouldn't want to be near others for that shitstorm.

"Thanks, Wanda," Steve whispered. Wanda leaned her head on his shoulder, and they stayed like that until Tony found them both asleep, hours later.

 

\------

From that day, Steve stopped looking for Bucky. Sam had given him an incredulous look when he's said so but thankfully hadn't commented. Steve threw himself into work - he visited Lagos and helped the citizens repair the city he'd had a hand in destroying, he went on missions that took him all over the world, and he gave that ex-SHIELD agent Nat had been bugging him about a call. He even went on a date with her, but that was all that he could do. 

Steve still got concerned looks from his friends, but they'd stopped bugging him for now. The only one of them who knew what was really going on with him was Wanda, and she seemed to keep the others from asking too many questions.

Soon, it had been over six months since Steve had last seen Bucky. To be more specific, it had been 6 months, 12 days and 3 hours. Steve felt as if he was dying, every day he wasn't in his friend's presence. It felt like something had clawed its way into his stomach and was slowly making its way up his oesophagus, its talons ripping its way through his chest and throat. 

When he'd casually brought up the feeling while talking to Clint (if there even was a way to casually bring that up), his friend had gone very still. When Steve had asked what was wrong, Clint had looked over at him with an uncharacteristically sad look in his eyes.

"Who are they?" Clint had finally asked. 

"What do you mean?"

"The person who's breaking your heart."

It wasn't like Steve was ignorant of his feelings towards Bucky - he never had been. But, looking into Clint's eyes at that moment, he realised. 

He was in love. He probably had been for a very long time, he just hadn't realised it. Steve could have slapped himself - how could he have been so stupid? He'd felt the twist in his chest every time Bucky had come home from a date, his hair in disarray and his shirt unbuttoned, with lipstick prints all over his face. He'd felt the air get knocked out of him when he'd found Bucky strapped to the table, delirious and mumbling his credentials over and over again. Bucky by his side, walking back to camp with the other liberated POWs. Fighting beside him with the Howling Commandos. Watching as the bar came off the door and Bucky fell into the ravine, powerless to do anything but watch as his best friend fell to something worse than death.

So maybe Steve was wallowing a bit. Okay, a lot. He couldn't concentrate, could barely sleep, lost his appetite. When Fury and Hill came to visit, he'd later seen them talking to Tony and Bruce in concerned, hushed tones. Sam had started dragging him down to the VA at any chance he got. The excuses always varied, but Steve knew the real reason. Vision had placed a finger on Steve's forehead and morosely informed him that he had only seen this kind of pain in a dying man. That didn't help.

"What is going on with you?" Natasha snapped one day. She'd cornered him in the gym after their sparring session when he'd let in one too many swings and gotten his nose broken. "You're so distracted it's as if you're not even here!"

Steve glared at her and snapped his nose back into place, wincing at the pain. Natasha crossed her arms and stared him down, but he didn't budge. She looked away, her brow furrowed, and when she looked back over at him she looked worried.

"This is about the Winter Soldier, isn't it?" 

Steve stayed silent.

"Look, Steve. I get that he's an old friend, but he blew up the UN, and killed a lot of people, including the literal king of a country! He's out of control, and you need to realise that before you get yourself killed."

"He didn't bomb that building!" Steve shot back. "It wasn't him, he told me-"

He cut himself off, but the damage was already done. Natasha stared at him, utter shock on her face.

"You've seen him?" she asked incredulously. Steve turned away and started walking towards the door, but was stopped by Natasha's hand on his shoulder. She spun him around roughly, and he almost fell over from the ferocity of her expression.

"You didn't even think to tell me this?" Natasha asked. She sounded like she couldn't decide whether to be angry or upset. "I'm supposed to be your friend, Steve! I just want to help you, because it's pretty damn clear you're not okay!"

"Of course I'm not okay, Nat!" Steve exploded. "I'm in love with a brainwashed Russian spy, and I fight crime. Does that sound like the life of someone stable?! I wait every night to see if I'll see him again, if he'll climb through my window again, because I have never been able to live without him, not even when we were kids! I give him space because it's what he wants, and he comes first every damn time! It doesn't matter that I feel like screaming, that I can barely function without him here, without knowing that he's okay and not in the clutches of the Soviet Union or HYDRA or worse, that he doesn't even know how much I care about him, that his memories could disappear at any moment. Do you have any idea what it's like to have the most important person in your life not know who you are? Because that's the kind of thing that breaks a person."

Natasha was speechless as Steve shoved his boxing gloves into her chest. "I'm done, Nat. The shield's in the armoury, give it to Sam."

"Steve, wait!" Natasha suddenly sounded panicked, as if she's only just realised the realness of the situation. Steve ignored her and stalked to the door, slamming it behind him.

 

\------

 

It didn't take long for everyone to find out about Steve's abrupt retirement. His phone was blowing up with texts and calls, so he broke it. He kept hearing knocks at the door, so he moved the next day. Somehow, the paparazzi got their dirty little hands onto the story and it was all over the news. He couldn't leave the house - not that he wanted to. 

Steve knew this wasn't healthy. Hell, he knew damn well how badly this was affecting him. But he didn't know what to do about it. It wasn't as if he came from a time when showing emotions was a good thing. _Suck it up, son_ they'd say, _you're a man, men don't cry._ Just thinking about it made Steve want to hurl. 

At night, he would barely sleep. He'd stare at the ceiling that was so blank it made him want to scream and smash it to pieces. One night he woke up screaming, Bucky's name on his lips and his arms outstretched to catch him before the inevitable happened. The next day, Steve was painting the ceiling. Blacks and blues and golds danced across the plaster, an entire galaxy coming to life under his fingertips. 

It wasn't long after that when Steve started leaving the apartment again. He kept his head low, knowing the paparazzi were on the lookout, but he tried to get back to normal. He watched on the news as Sam wielded his shield, and felt a sense of pride knowing that his legacy was being continued. But it was never really about the legacy.

A full eight months since he saw Bucky, Steve was coming home from the grocery store. It wasn't too late, but it had already grown dark outside. Steve flicked on the switch with his spare hand, and everything in his arms dropped to the floor. 

Because Bucky was standing in his living room.

"Hey Steve," he mumbled. He sounded worried, nervous. And it took all of Steve's willpower to not cross the room and gather Bucky up in his arms and never let go.

"Why did you come back?" Steve asked quietly. Bucky bit his lip and looked away.

"I..." He cut himself off and sighed. "I... I've missed you."

Steve couldn't help himself - he took a step towards Bucky, who tensed. Steve stopped in his tracks, holding up his hands as if to show he wasn't armed. Bucky looked ashamed, and took a tentative step towards Steve. Steve stayed as still as he could, not wanting to spook the man in his apartment. He realised that Bucky was like a hurt animal - easy to spook, easy to provoke, hard to gain trust from. Soon enough Bucky was close enough to touch, and his hand came up to touch Steve's cheek, feather-light. Steve's eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into the touch, heart beating erratically. He couldn't do anything but stand there as Bucky took one more step closer, their chests touching. Steve's hands went to the jut of Bucky's hips, still as bony as they always were. Bucky's metal hand was at the back of his neck, his thumb caressing the fine hair at the base of Steve's skull. Steve walked backwards slowly, pulling Bucky with him until the backs of his knees hit the couch and he sat down, Bucky willingly going down with him. Bucky's knees were on either side of Steve's thighs, his arms around Steve's neck. Their foreheads were pressed together as they breathed in each other's air, their noses brushing together and lips almost touching. It was almost too easy to close the distance between them.

Bucky gasped into the kiss, his grip tightening and sending shoots of electricity through Steve's body. Bucky kissed like a dying man - firm and thorough and desperate, and Steve was almost delirious from lack of oxygen and the feeling of Bucky's lips pressed against his. Steve held on to Bucky's waist tightly, his thumb brushing over the V of Bucky's hips, making him groan softly. It was intoxicating, and Steve absentmindedly realised that this was the first proper kiss he'd had in a very long time. Those thoughts were ripped from his brain when Bucky's hand raked through his hair, the other moving down to unbutton his shirt. The metal fingers were cool against Steve's bare skin, and undid the buttons quickly and easily. There was a small voice in Steve's head that told him to slow down, to talk and then make out. It sounded suspiciously like Sam. 

Steve reluctantly broke the kiss, his hand coming up to gently caress Bucky's cheek. Bucky leaned into it like a cat, and his silky hair brushed against Steve's face. 

"Stay," Steve whispered. Bucky swallowed, his eyes wide and vulnerable. After a moment, he nodded. Steve could have cried with relief; instead, he slid Bucky's jacket off his shoulders and pulled Bucky's shirt off. Bucky leaned forward to kiss him again, his hands slipping under Steve's shirt and pushing it off. Bucky's skin under Steve's fingertips was warm and smooth, soft but mottled with scars. 

Steve picked Bucky up and slowly laid him on his back on the couch, settling between his thighs. Bucky gasped and arched his back as Steve pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck, right on top of an old scar that looked suspiciously like an arrowhead. Steve kissed every scar he could see, mouthing at Bucky's skin and feeling a shot of adrenaline at every sound Bucky made. Bucky's arms were suddenly back around his neck, and Steve was getting pulled up for another kiss. It was even more desperate than the last, open-mouthed and dirty and so addictive Steve could barely think straight. 

Bucky was mumbling things into the kiss, far apart and fast and indistinguishable - Steve realised with a start that he was speaking Russian, and that just served to make Steve fall under even more. The pressure building up against his jeans was almost painful, and without breaking the kiss, Steve undid his belt and pushed his jeans off his ankles, before doing the same to Bucky. 

"Take care of me," Bucky whispered in his ear. He sounded wrecked and desperate, and when Steve pulled back to look into his eyes, his expression was so open and trusting that Steve almost cried. 

Pressing another kiss to the corner of Bucky's mouth, Steve's arms went under Bucky's thighs and hoisted him up, and Bucky's legs gripped him so tightly it was as if he was holding on for dear life. Steve managed to get to his bedroom without falling over, and as gently as he could, placed Bucky on the bed beneath him. 

"I love you," Steve breathed, and tears spilt out from Bucky's eyes. Steve was pulled back down for a kiss, and it tasted salty. Steve wiped the tears from Bucky's face and murmured sweet nothings between their lips, and Bucky raked his hands through Steve's hair so hard it would've hurt a normal human. The kiss slowly gained intensity once again, and soon enough Steve's hand had gone into the top drawer beside his bed and had pulled out a small tube of slick. Underwear was soon discarded as Steve slowly trailed a hand between Bucky's thighs, and Bucky groaned, his head falling back to hit the pillow. 

"Steve," he murmured, and Steve moved back up to press open-mouthed kisses down the side of Bucky's neck. Bucky's fingers trailed over Steve's shoulder blades, the blunt nails sending sparks through Steve's body, and the grooves in between the joints of the metal served to further drive the adrenaline coursing through Steve's veins. Bucky's breath came in short gasps, and Steve only had two fingers inside him. 

When Steve added a third finger, Bucky's back arched off the bed as he canted his hips backwards onto Steve's fingers, letting out an obscene moan that made Steve's whole body shudder. Bucky pulled Steve up towards him and flipped them around, sitting with his thighs bracketing Steve's hips. Steve propped himself up against the headboard as Bucky kissed him, grinding slowly down onto Steve. Bucky reached for the tube, not breaking the kiss as his flesh hand reached between them to slowly slick Steve up, the callouses on his fingers sending shivers down Steve's spine. Steve buried his hands in Bucky's long hair and pulled, drawing out a long moan from the man on top of him. Both of Bucky's hands grabbed Steve's, guiding them down to his hips. Steve broke the kiss, searching Bucky's face for any sign of discomfort.

"Do you want this?" he asked softly. Bucky stroked the hairs at the base of Steve's skull, and leaned in to press a kiss to Steve's jaw.

"I told ya, Stevie," Bucky whispered, and Steve's heart fluttered at the Brooklyn drawl that was making its way into Bucky's words. "I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

Overcome with emotion, Steve pulled Bucky so close there was no more space between the two of them, kissing him deeply as Bucky manoeuvred his hips so that he could sink down and bury Steve inside of him. It was overwhelming, the heat and pressure and feeling of Bucky so close that Steve had trouble remembering how to breathe. Bucky's body quivered above him, the grip he had on Steve's shoulder so tight it was almost painful, his nails digging into the skin. Steve could do nothing but hold on as tight as he could until they both got their senses back. 

Bucky leaned back to look into Steve's eyes, his hair falling into his face and framing his features in an almost angelic way. Steve almost purred as Bucky's hand cupped his cheek, leaning their foreheads together as he started to slowly move his hips. Bucky ground his hips down so Steve's pelvis was flush against his ass, his breathing laboured and uneven. Steve tilted his head back, capturing Bucky's lips in a harder kiss than before, his hands gripping Bucky's waist so tight there would be bruises. Bucky started to lift himself up and down, groaning into Steve's mouth as Steve rocked his hips upwards and into Bucky. Steve moved his mouth from Bucky's mouth to his neck, biting and sucking as his hands ran over Bucky's soft skin, broken only by the scars littered across his body. Steve thought he was beautiful. 

Bucky tasted of sweat and peppermint, and it was the most delicious thing Steve had ever had. Steve moved his mouth across Bucky's chest, mouthing at his nipples and the scars around his shoulder, just before the metal met flesh. Bucky's hands were in his hair, and he was moving his hips more urgently now, and each time he came down it felt like fireworks had exploded behind Steve's eyes. Steve rolled them over, bracketing Bucky with his body. Bucky's hands went to Steve's arms, massaging the skin and moving upwards to grasp at Steve's shoulders. Bucky pulled him down once again, the kiss hot and heavy and open-mouthed. As Steve's thrusts started to gain intensity, Bucky's gasps became soft cries, and Steve watched in wonder as Bucky's eyes squeezed shut and he gasped with every breath, his chest heaving. Steve could feel pressure starting to build up in his sternum, and leaned down to latch his mouth onto the nape of Bucky's neck. There were already several bruises around the area, and Steve felt a sort of pride that he'd never experienced before, seeing what he was doing to Bucky. As Steve reached his climax he started to pull out, but Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve's waist, crossing his ankles behind Steve's back. Just that momentum had Steve pushed over the edge, biting down on Bucky's skin. Bucky cried out, throwing his head back as he came just after, Steve rocking him through his climax. 

Bucky opened his eyes, and it was as if Steve was seeing those eyes for the first time all over again. Blue on grey on green, ice on the tops of trees and the ocean water on the back of a breaching whale. A wasteland, a paradise, a cold and comforting place. Bucky placed his hand on Steve's cheek, resting their foreheads together, and his dark lashes flitted over his perfect skin. Steve wanted to kiss every inch of the beautiful man underneath him, but his body felt so heavy he could have fallen through the bed. Steve rolled to the side, settling down beside Bucky on the mattress. Bucky immediately latched onto him, his head resting in the crook of Steve's neck. His soft hair tickled Steve's face.

"Stay," Steve whispered. Bucky looked up at him, and pressed a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"Okay."

 

\------

 

When Steve woke up, he had dark hair pressed against his face. It wasn't unpleasant - the hair smelled nice, and was soft against Steve's skin. He burrowed his face further into the hair, and slowly realised there was a body wrapped around his like a starfish. Steve reached up to brush the hair out of his face, and saw Bucky's sleeping face, buried in his shoulder. Steve couldn't do anything other than smile and press a kiss to the top of Bucky's head, carting his hand slowly through Bucky's hair. He pressed his cheek to Bucky's head, holding back the lump in his throat and the overwhelming relief that threatened to engulf him.

_He stayed._

Bucky stirred in his arms, and Steve looked back down to see an ice blue eye cracked open, looking at him. 

"Morning," Steve mumbled, his voice rough from sleep. Bucky closed his eye again and pressed a kiss to Steve's chest, nuzzling him like an over-affectionate cat. Steve closed his eyes, not even trying to hold back the ridiculous grin on his face.

 

\-----

 

When Steve walked through the front doors of Avengers Tower, the receptionist dropped the pen she was holding. Without taking her eyes off Steve, she brought the phone up to her ear and started talking in rapid-fire Russian. Steve just raised an eyebrow and walked past her to the elevators. He barely made it up 5 floors before the doors opened and Natasha stepped into the elevator. Her eyes were full of tears as she hugged him.

"If you ever scare me like that again, I will rip the skin from your body and sew it into a very attractive jumpsuit," she choked. Steve buried his face in her hair, mumbling an apology that did nothing to ease the guilt inside him.

"I shouldn't have left."

When Steve saw the rest of the crew, it went pretty much the same way. Wanda punched his arm then knocked the breath out of him in a hug. Maria smacked him upside the head and told him never to scare her like that again. Tony clapped him on the shoulder and muttered some nonsensical "It's good to have you back, Cap," before retreating. Tony had never been good with emotions.

"Why'd you leave?" Clint asked. He was sharpening a knife, and it was somewhat intimidating.

"I..." Steve took a deep breath. "I needed to figure some stuff out."

Sam crossed his arms. "And you're back because you've figured that stuff out?"

Steve met his friend's eyes. Sam's eyebrows were raised, his chin stuck up defiantly. He did have that gleam in his eyes that only came when he knew exactly what Steve was thinking. Without saying it, Steve knew that Sam knew about Bucky.

"Yeah," Steve replied, feeling a smile curl at his lips. "I did."

Sam's face broke into a grin and he wrapped his arms around Steve tightly. "I'm happy for you, man," he said quietly. Natasha quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

 

\-----

 

When Steve got home, he was overcome with worry. Bucky had said that he would stay, but who knows if he'd actually keep that promise. He might have decided that the night before was a mistake and left, he might have decided he never wanted to see Steve again, or maybe he'd left because there was someone after him. Maybe he was in danger, and the thought of it made Steve sick to his stomach. 

Steve pressed his face against the door, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He probably looked stupid, but he didn't really care. After slowly preparing himself for Bucky to be gone, Steve turned the key and opened the door.

Whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn't the smell of baked macaroni and cheese, something Steve hadn't even thought of for over seventy years. He walked slowly to the kitchen, and saw Bucky taking a dish out of the oven, presumably the pasta.

"I didn't think you remembered how to cook," Steve found himself saying. Bucky set the dish on the stove to cool down, and took the mitts off his hands. It was such a domestic scene that it had Steve weak at the knees.

"I don't," Bucky admitted. "It's premade, and I still think I messed up." He ducked his head, carting his hand through his hair in a way that was almost shy. "I... I remembered that I used to make it for you when you were sick. You always seemed to like it when I made it for you, so I thought I'd... I'd give you something good to remember me by before I..."

He trailed off, but Steve knew exactly what he was about to say.

"Don't leave," Steve pleaded, stepping forward. "Please, Buck... I only just got you back."

Bucky's fingers were moving erratically, and his eyes were dark and worried as he looked up at Steve. "They'll come for me. They're not gonna stop looking for me, and I want to stay with you so much it hurts, but if I don't go, they'll find me and hurt you and take me back."

Steve didn't have a chance to respond before the window exploded. Men in dark combat gear burst through, shooting wildly. Bucky yelped as one of the bullets caught his good shoulder, and Steve grabbed him and pulled him into the next room, slamming the door behind them. He heard someone yell in Russian, and Bucky wasn't reacting well to his wound.

"Poison," he managed to gasp out. "It's affecting the serum... I can't heal myself."

Steve forced himself not to panic, and glanced at the chest of drawers next to the bed. He suddenly got an idea, and opened the top drawer to find exactly what he was looking for.

"I got this from Nick Fury," Steve explained, moving the bed to expose the floor beneath it. "It burns through basically everything."

"So it's a laser?"

"Basically, yeah."

Bucky hummed noncommittedly as Steve started to burn a hole through the floor. He knew that right underneath his bed was a corridor, and from there they could get to his motorbike and get out of there. When he'd finished, Steve grabbed Bucky and gently lowered him into the hole, pulling the bed back into place and hiding the hole before he jumped through himself.

Bucky could barely stand. He was swaying, his face was green, and as soon as Steve got within arm's reach he collapsed, Steve only just managing to catch him.

"Come on, Buck. We don't need to go far," Steve mumbled, pressing a kiss to Bucky's head. He heard yells and thumps from upstairs, and realised they didn't have much time before whoever had broken in found out they were gone. Being as quick and silent as possible, Steve managed to get down to the front of the building without attracting too much attention. There were more people in the combat suits in the lobby, and Steve cursed softly.

"We'll have to go through the back door," he muttered. Bucky just groaned, barely conscious. 

There were men surrounding the perimeter, and Steve cursed again. Tony would have a field day if he heard what Steve was saying. Along the way, Steve had picked Bucky up and was holding him close to his chest, as if he could protect him better that way. Bucky's arms were loose around his neck, and his head had lolled backwards onto Steve's shoulder. Praying that there was no serious damage, Steve almost wept with relief when he saw his bike where he left it. Thankfully, there were no armoured men around it, and Steve was able to manoeuvre himself, with Bucky on his lap, into a relatively safe position.

As soon as the engine was turned on, several camouflaged heads snapped towards him. Steve shot forwards, hearing the sounds of gunfire surround him and seeing the bullets whiz past his face. Steve heard a car start, and cursed. Of course, they would have their own vehicles. He turned into an alley, scaring the hell out of some cats, and used the garbage bins and assorted broken valuables to vault the bike over a wire fence, thanking the stars when they landed safely. 

Steve took the quickest route he knew without getting on any main roads to get to Avengers Tower, and was greeted with the shocked receptionist.

"We need a doctor and security around the building," Steve gasped out, and she quickly picked up the phone and spoke rapidly into the receiver. The entrance Steve just came through was blocked by a metal door, and the windows were much the same. The receptionist ran from the back of the desk to help Steve carry Bucky to the elevator, and slammed her finger on the 26th button. Once again, Steve was amazed by how big the building is, but that was soon forgotten as Bucky let out a whimper in his arms. His skin had turned worryingly pale, and his breath was coming in shallow gasps.

Tony met him in the med bay, stopping in his tracks when he saw who Steve was carrying.

"Is that-"

"We don't have time for this," Steve snapped. "He was shot - we think there was poison on the bullet."

Tony nodded numbly and started barking orders to Jarvis, motioning for Steve to lay Bucky on the table. Steve set him down as gently as possible as two metal arms descended from the ceiling and inserted a needle into Bucky's arm. Tony pulled Steve out of the room, a warning look in his eyes.

"Don't attack my equipment," he warned. "Jarvis knows exactly what he's doing. Barnes is in the right hands."

Steve took a shaky breath and almost fell over, Tony managing to catch him at the last second. Tony manoeuvred Steve into a chair, and there was a cold pack pressed to Steve's forehead.

"Jesus Cap, what happened?" Tony asked, looking concerned.

"Attack," Steve managed to get out. "HYDRA or someone. Looking for Bucky. We barely escaped."

Tony nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. "You're staying here. The both of you. It's the safest place for you right now."

Steve couldn't do anything but nod.

"Now," Tony started, "you need rest. I'll get a room set up-"

"I'm not leaving Bucky," Steve croaked. Tony was silent, before he walked away. 

Steve noticed people coming and going without speaking to him. Doctor Cho rushed into the operating theatre, pulling on a pair of gloves as she went. Sam came and sat next to him for a while, and offered food. Steve refused. Natasha leaned against his legs as she assembled a rifle over and over again and sharpening knives she grabbed randomly from her clothes. Wanda sang a Russian lullaby that eased Steve's nerves, although he wasn't sure how much of that was the song or her powers. Eventually, Steve fell asleep, waking up with a stiff back and Tony shaking him slightly.

"Doctor Cho has finished, and Jarvis says that he's gonna wake up soon," Tony said gently. Steve was on his feet in an instant but almost fell over once again. Tony exclaimed loudly and held him steady, his eyes full of worry. "Steve, Jesus Christ!"

"I'm okay," Steve muttered. "I need to see Bucky."

"Fine, as long as you agree to a check-up from Cho," Tony said, and Steve sighed.

"Fine."

Steve resolutely ignored Doctor Cho as she worked, occasionally wincing when she cleaned a particularly deep cut or her hands ran over a broken rib. He drowned out the chatter of Tony and Cho, and just sat by Bucky's bed, holding his hand. Bucky looked very small and pale in the bed, the shoulder that used to be connected to the metal arm a stark contrast as it abruptly cut off at his armpit.

"Why'd you take the metal arm off?" Steve suddenly asked, cutting into the conversation he wasn't listening to.

"It was a way for HYDRA to control him," Doctor Cho said. "The arm had been affected by the poison, which I can only think was created solely for the Winter Soldier. I had to take it off, otherwise, there would've been much more damage." She didn't elaborate on what exactly "damage" meant, and Steve didn't ask.

Steve sat by Bucky's bed for a long time. He didn't know exactly how long - he wasn't keeping track. Natasha brought him food every so often, but he usually didn't eat it. Sam talked to him about the conversation he'd had with the king of Wakanda when he'd gone with Natasha to 'look for the Winter Soldier'.

"He's a pretty great guy," Sam had said, before pausing. "Except for the whole 'I wanna murder Barnes while wearing a bulletproof cat costume' thing."

It was sometime the next day that Bucky woke up. Steve only noticed because Bucky tried to move, and immediately hissed in pain.

"Woah, easy, Buck," Steve said, getting quickly to his feet to push Bucky back onto the bed. "You need to rest."

"Not safe," Bucky mumbled, looking around the room. His eyes were wide and unfocused.

"Calm down," Steve said gently. "You're delirious. The doc's got you on some pretty good painkillers, but they're obviously making you a bit loopy."

"Not safe," Bucky repeated, looking up at Steve with fear. "I need to protect you."

"Buck, it's okay. We're in Avengers Tower, it's basically the safest place in the state." When Bucky still wouldn't relax, Steve sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "We're safe, Buck."

Bucky looked at him, and it was as if all the tension drained out of his body. His eyes filled with tears, and Steve held him as he cried. Bucky laid his head in the crook of Steve's neck, his tears falling onto the bare skin above Steve's shirt. Steve kissed the top of Bucky's head and sat back on the bed, pulling Bucky onto his lap. Bucky breathed in deeply and nuzzled into Steve's neck, making Steve's voice catch in his throat and wipe discreetly at his eyes. Bucky fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion, and Steve felt himself slip into unconsciousness not long after.

 

\------

 

Natasha wondered why the hell she was doing this. Sure, Steve was her friend. Maybe her closest friend, not counting Clint. But she was seriously reconsidering her ideas for befriending him. Because the self-sacrificing, infuriating so-called 'saviour of America' made her want to rip her hair out from worry. First, he finds out his best friend is alive, then spends two years searching for him. Then, said best friend blows up a building and kills the king of a small country, and leads Steve on a wild goose chase all across Europe and America. Then, Steve disappears, gives up the shield, and comes back a few months later with the assassin slash terrorist slash childhood best friend he'd been looking for since 1945 slung across his shoulder, dying from a poisoned bullet.

Natasha wanted to kick someone.

And despite all the strife Steve Rogers had put her through, and despite her hatred for James Buchanan Barnes, here she is with a sandwich _she made_ , taking it to her ungrateful friend.

Natasha was muttering to herself furiously as she stalked through the mostly empty hallway of the medical wing of Stark Tower. It was sometime past two in the morning, and almost everyone had gone home. But not Steve, because he just wanted to make Natasha start to worry sick about him. Natasha hated feelings. They sucked.

Natasha opened the door to James Barnes' room without much caution, but stopped dead in her tracks at what she saw. The most notorious Russian assassin in history was curled up in a ball in Captain America's lap, drooling on his shirt. Steve had his arms wrapped around Barnes like he was a lifeline, his lips pressed into Barnes' long hair. They were both fast asleep. 

Natasha huffed, trying desperately to ignore the warm curl unfolding in her stomach. They were not cute. Barnes was a bad person, and Steve was a jackass. They didn't deserve her approval.

Despite that, Natasha cut the sandwich in half and left it on the chair that Steve had been sitting in before closing the door softly behind her.

 

\-----

 

Bucky Barnes woke up warm. This was an irregular occurrence - an outlier. He usually woke up half-frozen, a thin layer of frost covering his metal arm and making it difficult to move. He had started thinking of himself as Bucky Barnes a year earlier. It was what Steve Rogers called him. Bucky Barnes trusted Steve Rogers. He was no longer a soldier, no longer HYDRA's toy. He had been told that he was incapable of love, which was probably a mistake on his handler's part, because the one thing he was absolutely sure about was that Bucky Barnes never backed down from a challenge. And when he'd gotten his memories back about Steve, he realised that he had always loved, without even realising it. Maybe that was why he kept going back to Steve Rogers.

So when Bucky woke up warm, he tensed. He could have been in danger. But then Steve's arms around him tightened, and he felt all the tension in his body seep out, and Bucky melted into Steve's embrace. He remembered flashes of what had happened the night before - yelling, pain, Steve's holding him. Hot tears on the top of his head. 

"Are we safe?" Bucky croaked. Steve kissed the top of his head.

"Yeah, Buck. We're safe."

Bucky nodded, and closed his eyes once again. 

They were safe.


End file.
